


Water In Your Hands

by connyhascontrol, mattepinkallshades



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Lesbian AU, Misunderstandings, One-sided Enemies to Lovers, and they were neighbors (oh my god they were neighbors), the inherent lesbianism of growing tomatoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24981208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connyhascontrol/pseuds/connyhascontrol, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattepinkallshades/pseuds/mattepinkallshades
Summary: Trixie simply doesn’t trust people who are that nice. She was right that Katya must have a hidden agenda, it just never occurred to her that it might be flirting.(In which Trixie confidently comes to the wrong conclusion every time.)
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 14
Kudos: 120





	Water In Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

> mattepinkallshades: Summer fun from me and my love, connyhascontrol. It was a joy to write with you and I’m in awe of your talent ♥
> 
> connyhascontrol: I've never had so much fun working on a fic and it's because until now I always did it alone. There's nobody else I could imagine doing this with, and I'm so proud of what we made together
> 
> We would be remiss if we didn't mention beanie's tomato-centric neighbors fic [summer (light is halved)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22718947) which our fic could be an alternate universe of. If you haven't read that yet, we highly recommend you do (and also if you've already read it, just read it again). Thanks to the fuck rhombus, you're all nuts and we're lucky to have you.
> 
> Anyway, here's our baby. Enjoy it for pride!

Trixie watched through her kitchen window as her neighbor stepped out of the house with a basket on her arm, how she walked from her front door to the sidewalk, crossed the short distance to Trixie's property and then walked up the two steps to Trixie's door. It still takes her by surprise when the doorbell rings, and instinctively, she ducks down behind the counter. Then she realizes that if she was able to watch Katya, maybe Katya saw her too. And then she'd know Trixie is hiding now. Fuck.

She crawls far enough that she's sure Katya can't see her through the window anymore, and then gets up, straightening her blouse before she answers the door.

"Hey, Trixie!" As always, Katya greets her with a maddeningly big, toothpaste ad smile. "I've got some leftover veg and thought I'd ask if you want some. I don't want it to go bad."

Right. Of course. She doesn't want it to "go bad." Trixie knows exactly what she's doing. She's used to Katya's bragging, but this is mockery. She acts all innocent, like she didn't watch Trixie pull out her insect-ridden tomato plants last week from the other side of the rickety wooden fence that separates their gardens. And now she just _happens_ to have an entire basket of what Trixie is sure would be price-winning produce if Katya entered it in a competition. The only competition here is between them and their gardens, ever since they moved in only two weeks apart.

Back then, Katya had started it all by bringing over some fresh strawberries from plants the last owner had left behind as she introduced herself. She'd been charming and funny in a weird way, and she'd worn jean shorts she clearly cut off herself, and a loose linen shirt that had been barely buttoned over a black bikini top.

It was infuriating. Trixie had been in sweatpants and a faded My Little Pony t-shirt she’s had since she was a kid and used to wear as a nightgown, with her hair unwashed, her teeth not even brushed yet. And this fucking model had waltzed into her home like the embodiment of the life Trixie was trying to live.

But now she’s dressed, and her garden is her whole pride and joy. Katya is not going to make her feel bad.

“That’s so considerate of you!” Trixie replies cheerfully with a fake smile, and she takes the basket covered with a dish towel that Katya is holding out to her. There better not be any zucchini in this. Katya gives no sign that she’s going to leave, and Trixie is not going to close the door in her face. She was raised right and she’s going to show Katya how hospitality is done.

“Would you like to come in?” She steps back a little, pulling the door open further, and Katya’s smile gets even wider.

“Sure, but I can only stay a minute.” She thoroughly wipes her shoes on the doormat before stepping inside, and Trixie leads the way into the kitchen. She sets the basket down on the counter and gestures to the wooden dining table.

“Make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink?” Trixie asks, and she’s already opening a cabinet and reaching for a water glass. Katya only ever asks for tap water, and Trixie squeezes a bit of lemon into it, adding a few leaves of fresh mint if she has any. Every time, Katya insists it’s not necessary, and Trixie brightly informs her it’s no trouble. She’s _good_ at this.

But today Katya declines the water, jerking her head from side to side, and Trixie frowns. This is new. She closes the cabinet door a little louder than she had intended, and turns towards the basket. As soon as she lifts the dish towel, she spots the tomatoes.

“I’m so sorry yours died. I have plenty to spare, just let me know if you want any more,” Katya says from where she’s perched on a chair at the table. She’s sitting unnaturally straight and her eyes are wide with a look of innocence that could almost fool Trixie. Underneath the tomatoes Trixie unearths radishes along with scallions and cucumbers. They all look absolutely perfect. God. She’s going to have to scour her garden for things to return the favor. She has a surplus of arugula and maybe some of the peas are ready to be harvested in the next couple of days. Or Trixie could show Katya up by making a quiche with her own scallions and bring it over.

“These all look fantastic, thank you so much.”

“Sure.” Katya says nothing else, just keeps staring at Trixie.

“This was really so nice of you,” Trixie says to fill the dead air, trying to give Katya her cue to leave.

“I wanted to ask you something.” Katya’s blue-green eyes have narrowed with concentration.

“Oh. Sure.” Trixie leans against the counter, crossing her arms in front of her body. It takes her a moment to realize Katya looks nervous, because she's never seen Katya look nervous before. It's making Trixie's palms sweaty.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a hike with me," Katya presses out in one breath.

Trixie blinks a few times. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Uhm." Katya stares up at her, clearly taken aback. "There's a place I want to show you," she offers as an explanation, and Trixie uncrosses and then recrosses her arms, not knowing what else to do with them.

"What place? Why?"

"I can't really describe it, I just—" Katya interrupts herself with a breathless laugh. "I promise I’m not going to murder you, I just want to walk with you a bit."

"Yeah, I don't really do that." Trixie feels like a fish out of water in her own kitchen. What on earth is Katya playing at? A horrible suspicion creeps up on her. With narrowed eyes she bites out, “I’m not selling you my half of the house.”

“What? I don’t _want_ your half of the house.” Katya looks genuinely bewildered, and Trixie relaxes a little.

Originally, it had all been one large plot of land with a spacious family home. At some point it had all been split up into two adjoining properties, each still with a big garden but living space that wasn’t too much for one person. Or maybe two at some point. It was perfect for Trixie.

“Then what do you want?”

Katya laughs again, but with desperation. “I’m just trying to take you out on a date, Trixie.”

Only the humming of the fridge and the birds she can hear through the open window fill the air as Trixie stares at Katya with wide eyes.

“A date,” she repeats in a flat voice, trying to read on Katya’s face if this is some kind of joke, but Katya is no longer looking at her. Her gaze seems to be fixed on her own hands, gripping the edge of the kitchen table.

“I’m sorry, I must have … misread the situation.”

Trixie slowly shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Are you not …?” Katya’s question trails off, and very quietly she adds, “I thought I saw you looking at me.”

Now it’s Trixie who laughs. “Of course I’ve been looking at you! I have eyes, and you’re like, a Harper’s Bazaar cottagecore fashion spread.” She snaps her mouth shut, trying to will away the color she can feel rising hot in her cheeks.

“So,” Katya is frowning at her again, “are you saying you _are_ or you _aren’t_ interested?”

“I … yes.” Her mouth made the decision without her, but now that Trixie has said it, she knows it’s true. In the year since she’s moved in here, she hasn’t spend as much time and energy on anybody as she has on Katya. At no point had she considered that it might just be a run-of-the-mill crush. She has to admit, it’s very her to construct an entire rivalry around what was apparently just a neighbor being unusually friendly. Trixie simply doesn’t trust people who are that nice. She was right that Katya must have a hidden agenda, it just never occurred to her that it might be flirting.

“Yes, you are, or yes, you aren’t?” Katya asks with her head cocked to the side, but the corners of her mouth are pulling up, and it makes irritation flare up in Trixie’s stomach.

“Yes, I am,” she clarifies with an eye roll. “Obviously.”

Katya is no longer trying to hide her grin, and the way her face lights up and the delicate skin around her eyes crinkles distracts Trixie from how much she hates feeling like she’s being made fun of.

“Just making sure!” Katya has both hands raised in a gesture of innocence. As she lets them sink, her face softens, and she adds, “I’m glad you are.”

The hot feeling in Trixie’s stomach turns pleasantly warm. Has Katya always looked at her like this? She can’t have; surely Trixie would have noticed.

“Right, I gotta go.” Katya stands and wipes her palms on her jeans. “Text me and we’ll figure out a time?”

In that moment it hits Trixie like lightning that Katya gave Trixie her number only a few weeks after she’d moved in. ‘ _In case you need anything or just wanna talk or whatever,_ ’ she’d said and pressed a note into Trixie’s palm. Trixie had thanked her with a polite smile, trying not to grind her teeth over Katya thinking she needed help. She still had saved it in her phone. A few times she had opened the contact, her thumb hovering over the little trash can icon, but never actually deleting it.

“You gave me your number. That was a _move_ ,” she mumbles now, mostly to herself, and Katya laughs.

“Not a very good one if you only just got that.”

Trixie laughs along to hide her embarrassment.

“I’ll see you around, Trixie,” Katya says with the smile still lingering in her eyes.

“Oh, wait, your basket!” It’s still full of veg, and Trixie tries to quickly transfer everything to her counter. Katya dismissively waves one hand.

“Don’t worry about it. You can bring it over whenever.”

It’s not the first time Katya has said something like that, but for the first time, Trixie hears the invitation in it, rather than the ball being pushed into her court.

“I’ll text you,” Trixie promises as she holds the door open for Katya, and this time the smile is genuine as she says goodbye.

—

A week later, in refreshingly bare feet, Trixie stands behind her closed front door with her lip caught in her teeth.

The first thing Trixie does when she gets back to her side of the house after their first date—she already knows a second is coming—is flick a pebble from her shoe. After getting a rough and completely unreliable estimate of the distance Katya expected her to hike, Trixie decided to sport crisp white sneakers with no socks. Well, fuck Tan France, even if he never suggested a white sneaker for a _hiking date_. She doesn’t remember what she was thinking when she slipped them on this morning. Maybe something about appearing emotionally virginal after sliding one brick from the wall between them over that basket of tomatoes. But for the last thirty minutes of their return trip, Trixie winced over a murderous lump tumbling under the arch of her right foot.

Katya would not have minded stopping. It was a great date, albeit a chaste one. That was a tad disappointing, but it ended in a rush so Trixie tries not to take it personally. They meant to stay at Katya’s special tree for a bit and “go from there” but instead they sat on an unaccommodating rock for close to three hours, talking and sharing the enormous water bottle Katya had thought to bring. The special tree is a twisty beast split at the trunk by lightning tens of thousands of years ago. Katya looked petite standing under it, although she’s quite tall. Not so much as Trixie, but hardly any girl is. The top of her golden head almost brushed the thick crest where it split. She looked satisfied there, too.

On the way there, Katya had been completely focused on their surroundings, pointing out plants by the wayside, her own feet steadily thudding over the forest floor. Once she was sure Trixie had appreciated her tree, her focus turned onto Trixie and didn’t leave her the entire time they talked. Their conversation ranged from first jobs to the last time each had gone fishing (twenty years ago for Katya, five for Trixie and only because a date asked her to). Finally, Katya had to race home to turn in work she’d planned on having more time to do today.

It was Trixie who would not stop or even announce her growing agony. That’s her secret weapon in life. At any rate, Katya flitted along so damn fast on the way down, and Trixie kept her mouth shut to hide she was panting to keep up. The soles of her feet burned after resting so long at the tree.

Now they prickle against the carpet as Trixie reminisces over all the moments that just ended. She hops on her tiptoes to the kitchen to gulp a large mason jar of water. She fills a few each morning and keeps them strategically around the house to remind herself to take breaks, hydrate. After swallowing the first sip, her face bursts with sweat like her skin was holding on until she could exhale. She wouldn’t normally, but she lets some trickle down her chin and neck like a marathon runner which she would never, ever want to be. Trixie smiles at how nice it is to relax.

Nothing about Katya made her feel nervous though, not today. Katya picked a seed pod from Trixie’s ponytail and she felt cared for, not mocked. She saw a bunch of Katya’s familiar habits but today they seemed as demure as the way she curls her fingers when she tucks loose hair behind her ear. Trixie found herself speaking more freely than she has in years, though she did notice how free she felt and then kept pulling back again, unfamiliar with trusting that somebody actually wants to hear her talk that much.

The empty glass strikes the bottom of the sink and Trixie mindlessly wipes it with a soapy sponge, staring at the leak in the base of the faucet. It’s wrapped with plumber’s tape and needs to be properly fixed soon.

Trixie needed a kiss. She’s sad to have missed the chance, but Katya really was in such a rush and this kind of kiss doesn’t need to be rushed. Now, it feels like there’s a running length to her and Katya’s connection where before today, it had only felt like accidental overlaps.

Through her kitchen window, Trixie’s side of the garden beckons to be watered down. There’s still time in the summer for a few new tomato plants to get going. Katya’s bounty gave her enough to jar half a shelf of homemade tomato sauce and jam. Trixie would gladly give her some but the only conversation starter that failed all day was about favorite foods, to which Katya only had to say “Food—I hate it!” To Trixie’s perplexed face, Katya laughed graciously and clarified that she’s picky and tolerates a short list of acceptable meal components.

Every evening, or as late as she can wait to look each day, Trixie inspects the tomato stalks for firm green fruit popping behind the blossoms. She thinks tonight she might find a few.

—

The aquarium had been Trixie's idea. After Katya took her to a place that was special to her, Trixie didn't just want to invite her to lunch. She’s grown a little anxious about how Katya’s food aversion would work in the long run, but reminds herself it is just their second date. Answers aren’t needed.

So Trixie invited her to go to the aquarium her grandparents used to take her to when she was a kid. She hadn't been there since then. Years ago it got renovated, and when they stepped inside, Trixie didn't recognize it as the same place from her childhood anymore, the nostalgia she'd been looking forward to failing to set in. Katya left her no time to wallow. She grabbed Trixie's hand and pulled her to a tank with jellyfish serenely floating around.

"Trixie, look!" she breathed, the illuminated water painting blue shapes on her face that moved with the jellyfish, and Trixie had freely stared at Katya while her wide eyes were occupied.

Then, over Katya’s shoulder, Trixie spotted a large open basin low to the floor with guests crowded around the edge like a wishing well. It was filled with water and to Trixie’s surprise, people dipped their arms in up to the elbow. A shadow drifted past under their fingers and Trixie’s jaw dropped, her mind filling in a variety of creatures that might be sliding beneath the surface.

She hesitated to disturb Katya’s revery. In the reflection of Katya’s eyes that looked cooler in the artificial light, a jellyfish stretched its petals, then rocketed away. Her gaze darted up to follow it and Trixie felt jealous. Whether of the jellyfish or Katya’s ability to sacrifice someone’s attention—her attention—she couldn’t tell.

“There’s something over there,” Trixie said softly enough that Katya may not hear it, totally not intentionally to have something she could feel legitimately snitty about.

But Katya did hear. She calmly broke out of her trance, stared at Trixie for a full ten seconds with a smile playing around her lips before turning.

“Oh. Is that a touch pool?”

“I guess!” Trixie cleared her throat and paused, waiting for Katya’s exuberance to return.

It never did. Instead, Trixie witnessed a different shaped spike in her energy, one that looked like caution. Trixie coaxed Katya over to the touch pool with a few backward steps and a beckoning finger. She liked that Katya followed. She liked the flip in her stomach at discovering the shadows in the water were cownose rays, a sight that made Katya’s face darken under the curtain of her blonde hair as she reluctantly cowered. This was not how Katya liked to be seen, not the plucky weirdo with an overgrowth of confidence to share. Trixie would try to put on a brave face if it were her, but Katya didn’t hide her apprehension. She went with Trixie anyway.

This time, Trixie took Katya’s hand and put her other under the water to stroke a passing ray. It felt strangely dry or perhaps it was only by comparison to the sweat in Katya’s palm. It’s wings rippled to create waves that broke the smooth surface. Trixie squeezed Katya’s hand tight like that would help her feel its strange skin. Sharp overhead lights reflected in the water, and Trixie saw just silhouettes of both their faces in the reflection, too. She could pick out her high ponytail and Katya’s curls. It was barely noticeable, but Katya shifted a little closer, like Trixie had said something she’d wanted to hear all her life and she didn’t want to miss it, when Trixie hadn’t spoken at all. To break the silence, Trixie gestured to the aquarium worker doing a demonstration for kids and asked Katya if that was more her speed. Katya laughed and shook Trixie’s hand in the air between them, her knuckles ringed in pink and white. Then Katya walked them onward to the seahorses, where they used their phones to research how long one would survive in a water cooler.

That’s why the end of the date makes no sense to Trixie. They didn't part at Trixie's car when they were back in her driveway. Katya walked her up to the front door and told her what a wonderful time she had today. Certain the kiss she'd waited for was coming, Trixie leaned in a little with her lips soft, but Katya only pulled her in for a hug. Her fingertips pressed into her back and Trixie started to flinch and squeal at the tickle, hopeful it would put them face to face again. It did. And Katya seemed satisfied with just that. It was nice to have her warm body pressed close for a moment, but Trixie can't help being disappointed.

She steps out the backdoor, having exchanged her sneakers for Birkenstock slip-ons, to make her daily round through the garden. It rained earlier, and Trixie deeply inhales the smell of saturated soil.

Maybe it's something she did. Maybe it's something she didn't do. She's never come home from a second date without at least a kiss. They had been so comfortable with each other, and Katya already promised her she'd let her know where they'll go next time, so Trixie tries not to let her thoughts run away with all the possibilities of where she could have messed up. She tries too hard, misses the step down and knocks over an empty terra cotta pot.

At least the new tomatoes are coming along nicely. They're slowly starting to turn red; the first ones should be ready to harvest in a few days.

—

Katya had only told her they were going to have dinner, and Trixie ended up glaringly overdressed. Trixie’s mind had conjured up Italian food, dark tablecloths, and candlelight. In reality, the place Katya took her to was a hip vegan restaurant with plants hanging from the ceiling, sunlight streaming in through the windows. Everybody else was casually dressed, mostly in muted tones, including Katya in her dark jeans and a button down with tiny sharks printed all over it. She had pushed the sleeves up to her elbows and left the top three buttons undone, clearly wearing nothing underneath. Trixie’s ears had gotten hot when she first took in the outfit, her eyes getting stuck on the bare skin of Katya’s chest with just a shirt making her decent.

Back at home, Trixie wrestles with the zipper of her baby pink dress. It’s always had a tendency to get stuck, and it doesn’t help that it’s quite a bit tighter than it was when she bought it. Katya looked her up and down with a smile and told her she looked beautiful when she came over so they could drive to the restaurant together. It seemed like a good start. Once they were there, and Trixie saw what kind of place it was, she felt like she’d shown up in costume. That feeling only got worse when Katya told her she’s friends with the owner, and Trixie wished for a tablecloth to hide behind. While Trixie squirmed in her chair, Katya went on and on about how Crystal grows a lot of the produce herself, how she and Crystal had bonded over gardening, how she hoped Crystal could come out and meet Trixie.

It all made a sour taste spread in Trixie’s mouth, which she unsuccessfully tried to swallow down. Katya looked wounded so Trixie put on a softer face and changed the subject. She’d thought Katya brought her here because Trixie is a vegetarian, and also to meet Trixie halfway, give food a try. Not to gush about another woman.

She finally gets the zipper down and lets the dress fall to the floor. She considers picking it up but leaves it lying there, and grabs her clothes from yesterday to throw on for her evening round through the garden. She kept the blinds down all day so it’s cool and dark in the bedroom. It makes her look pale when she catches her reflection in the mirror. Her thick hair never holds the curls for long that she puts so much effort into creating. Around her hairline her foundation has come off, and flakes of mascara have settled in the lines around her eyes. Her face is shiny, in a greasy not glowy way. She looks tired and like she tries too hard, because she does. The summer heat and her going out looks are not a good match.

None of those pestering insecurities bothered Trixie when she was talking to Katya. Katya was an attentive listener, often leaning her hand on her chin at the other side of the table while Trixie rambled on about nothing in particular. Katya was smiling and nodding along, humming in agreement every now and then. When the food arrived, Katya only half-heartedly picked at her own. Trixie asked if there was something wrong with it, but she vehemently shook her head and pushed the plate across the table towards Trixie.

“No, it’s good, I’m just not hungry. Try it!”

Trixie reached over with her fork and popped a piece of Katya’s lentil burger into her mouth, making a small noise of appreciation, aware of Katya’s expectant eyes watching. In turn, she had gestured to her own plate, inviting Katya to have a bite of her roasted cauliflower, but her face scrunched up.

“I don’t like cauliflower. I think.”

“You think?” Trixie asked.

“Well, I haven’t tried it in a long time,” Katya explained quickly. She eyed the plate and moved her fingers. It was unbearably sweet. It also made Trixie think maybe _she_ makes _Katya_ nervous. She liked that thought. “Maybe ... I do like it now.”

Katya stretched her arm across the table, snatched a tiny, _tiny_ piece of cauliflower, and then chewed it for an unnecessarily long time. Trixie cupped her face and squeezed her cheeks, trying to keep her giggle in check and failing.

With a slow nod Katya concluded, “Yup, still hate it,” and grinned when Trixie laughed openly.

Throughout their dinner, Katya kept reaching out and grabbing Trixie’s arm when she got excited about something Trixie said, which was most of the time. The first time it happened, Trixie almost instinctively pulled her arm back. After the second time, she moved it closer to Katya so she didn’t have to reach so far. Katya responded by squeezing, her fingertips pressing in enough that Trixie could feel them individually. The thought of them pressing her arms in a kiss made Trixie lean her whole body forward.

After their plates were cleared, both their heads bent low over the table and their faces stayed animated as if they were sharing secrets. The secret was that Trixie really liked Katya, and that she thought Katya liked her too.

Until they got back home. This time, Katya didn’t even hug her. She didn’t come close enough to try. She just looked at Trixie’s face for a silent moment that stretched out uncomfortably long before wishing Trixie a good night and disappearing behind her front door.

Trixie feels a few tears well up and blinks them away with determination. She knows it’s only been three dates. It’s what people do to figure out if they fit together. But the least Katya could do was just admit she’s not attracted to Trixie and give her the chance to decide if she wants to be friends. Trixie doesn’t know if she can; not after Katya pushed open that door and asked her out.

She lets herself plop down on the edge of the bed, suddenly too exhausted to do anything but sit there and stare at the wall. It’s the wall that separates her place from Katya’s, and she has often wondered if Katya’s bedroom is on the other side of it. The walls are thick and she’s never heard anything, but she has imagined Katya only a few feet away in cozy pajamas, reading a book in bed. In the last few weeks she’s thought about her being right there when Trixie’s hands drifted over her own body, pushing away the thin blanket she sleeps with in summer, bunching up her nightgown around her waist, and biting her lip so as to not make any noise.

She feels slightly sick thinking about that now. If Katya was interested in her that way, she would have done something. Trixie had put all her hope on tonight. She had even shaved thoroughly and picked out a nice, matching set of underwear, just in case Katya wanted to catch up quickly. She clearly didn’t. More than anything else, it annoys Trixie that it upsets her as much as it does.

—

Trixie thought a weekend away might distract her from the Katya situation. If they were dating, Trixie would have drifted dreamily between her phone and mirthful chatter with other wedding guests.

Instead it highlighted Katya’s absence, both from her surroundings and from her messages.

She spent all weekend with people she barely knew, first sitting through a bachelorette party on Friday night and then the wedding on Saturday. It was hardly a wedding worth making such an effort for. The bride was a distant friend from college. All anybody wanted to ask her about was whether she was seeing anybody. Instead, she had to confirm over and over that no, there was nobody in her life; she was dating, but nothing serious.

Back at home—glum, hungry, and sweaty—a cloud of dust swirls around Trixie's feet as she steps out the backdoor.

The AC in her car crapped out so she spent the five hour ride home with all the windows down—except the stuck passenger one—cursing and sweating out her T-shirt and shorts. She didn't even stop on her way to have lunch, too eager to escape the heat on the road.

Trixie knows her hunger only fuels her misery, but she needs to take care of her plants first. And maybe she doesn't want to cool off her misery. She's earned some time to feel bad for herself. Food can wait longer when she’d rather hold onto this lump in her throat.

The garden is a dustbowl. She watered it on Friday morning before she left, but it must have not rained all weekend. It slightly bothers her that Katya wouldn’t notice when she apparently notices all of Trixie’s horticultural shortcomings. Hopefully there will be no permanent losses.

She tightly grips the nozzle of the hose. Cold water splashes over her feet and she lets it for a moment before redirecting it to her flower beds. The soil resists at first and water pools with round edges, spills over a mound. Then the pores of the earth open up to take it in. The soil turns dark and shiny as it hungrily soaks itself.

She hasn't gotten back to Katya about their next date. It was Trixie's turn to pick a place, but she decided she would spare herself another day of thinking there might be a future for them when Katya evidently only sees her as a friend. Or worse, she’d spare Katya the discomfort of turning Trixie down.

The leaves of her hollyhocks droop and the edges have turned brown. Trixie touches one careful hand to the delicate foliage. Usually they’re fairly sturdy, but their long stalks are laden with white and purple flowers, taking up all the energy the plants have.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Trixie mutters at the cup-shaped blossoms, feeling like they’re staring at her accusingly. “I didn’t mean to leave you without water for so long.” She crouches down, directing the hose nozzle towards the ground and making sure she doesn’t get it on the leaves. They don’t like that. “There you go. I’m sorry, okay? I promise I won’t do it again.”

A shadow falls over Trixie before she hears the soft _hey_ and quickly gets up, whips around to the person behind her. She doesn’t pay attention to the hose still spouting water, and she leaves a wet trail all across the front of Katya’s short denim overalls. She gasps when the water hits her.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Trixie closes the nozzle with her thumb until just a few drips are landing by her feet.

Katya shakes her head to absolve her. She doesn’t seem bothered by her wet clothes, just stuffs both hands in her pockets and with her chin nods towards the flowers.

“Are they giving you trouble? Do you want me to have a word with them?” Her serious facade cracks before she’s finished her question, and she’s openly grinning at Trixie by the end.

“I think I got them under control. But thanks for the offer.” Trixie refuses to be embarrassed by Katya catching her talking to her flowers.

Katya has her shaggy blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, but half of it has escaped it already, falling into her face and sticking to her neck where she must be sweating. Trixie licks her lips. Katya scratches at her forehead.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she blurts out. “I rang the doorbell, but there was no reply, and then I saw that the gate was open, so I …” Katya gestures vaguely to the garden. Her other hand remains firmly stuck in her pocket. She’s nervous. She steps over to a small, low bench Trixie left in the dirt weeks ago when she planted her new tomatoes. Trixie prefers it to kneeling. When Katya sits, her knees shoot up and it’s clearly lower than she planned for. She inches over as far as she can. Trixie accepts the quiet invitation. She kinks the hose and grabs a brick from the border around her hedges to hold it down on the ground, fits one thigh on the remaining bench.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I hadn’t heard from you in a while,” Katya starts quietly with her eyes big and focused on Trixie’s face.

“I was gone for the weekend.” Trixie’s voice is as low as Katya’s. She knows it’s not really an answer to what she asked.

“I know.”

It makes Trixie’s stomach flip that she noticed, maybe her car being gone from the driveway or the curtains being drawn, no music wafting out through her open kitchen window as it does whenever Trixie wipes down the counters and mops the tiles.

“I could’ve looked after this for you,” Katya offers gently. She means the garden; Trixie knows that, but it feels like a bigger promise.

“It’s okay,” she replies truthfully. It’s not what she wants, but it’s okay. She’s a big girl. Katya waits for her to say something else, and when Trixie doesn’t, she sighs.

“Trixie, I want to talk straight, and I’m just going to spit it out. I like you—” She stops because Trixie rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Is that bad?”

“It is if I don’t want to hear the words. ‘I like you, but it’s not a good time; I like you, and I think we should be friends; I like you, so I don’t want to lead you on’. I _know_ you like me, you don’t have to say that part.”

“That’s—it’s the only part. I like you. And I’ve been trying to do more good things for me like …” Katya trails off and waves her arm towards her garden. “Vegetables. Growing them, eating them, giving them to unsuspecting neighbors. A nice house! Good stuff, intentional. Having intent. Making friends who share my new habits, not just ones who still smoke.”

“You smoke?”

“I used to,” she cheerfully responds, bopping her head proudly. She’s proud of not smoking anymore. And for eating vegetables. Katya rubs at the inner corner of her eye with a finger tip, then blinks. “Hasn’t been, you know, only you waiting for me. I liked you right away. And I sure tried to lure you with various wares but shit, you’re a stubborn … big thing.”

Trixie shrieks. Katya bumps her shoulder with her own and muffles a bigger smile, licks her teeth. She never shrinks when Trixie laughs like that. Her arm is warm and the low sun lights up her whole face.

“Okay,” Trixie gives her, smiling and nodding at her in appreciation. “But like, are you finding _vegetables_ … boring?” Katya darts her eyes to the tomatoes in front of them to pause and interpret Trixie’s question. The scent of their leaves is fresh and rich, strong enough to taste. Fresh water glitters on the fine hairs of their stalks. The moment is so full it could burst. “Me, I mean. Did you find me boring when you tried me out?”

“Trixie,” Katya mumbles, shaking her head.

“Well—”

“You are _not_ boring, you are slightly maddening and not boring in the slightest,” Katya laughs. It’s quick and deep with a rhythm that makes Trixie squeeze her knees together and look away. When she looks back, she sees exactly the look she expected on Katya’s face. It makes her feel shorter than her, like she’s looking up at Katya gazing down, ready to cover her. She wants to be covered. It’s far more urgent than when she first wanted Katya’s kiss.

"Right, so asking me out was on that list of things you'd do for yourself, but not doing anything else about it?" It comes out sounding sharper than Trixie meant it to, but she doesn't have enough energy for a filter. Katya recoils in surprise, as much as she can on the narrow bench.

"I wasn't sure you wanted me to. You were so shocked when I asked you out, I didn't want to move too fast," she explains. "And I didn't think I'd be able to proceed gradually if I started anything. I'm still not big on self-control," she admits with a lopsided little smile.

"I mean, it’s also up to me, you know. And I am big on self-control. Usually.” Trixie lets Katya raise her eyebrows at that. “You didn't kiss me because you wanted to kiss me too much?" Trixie asks perplexed, and Katya only pulls her shoulders up around her ears in a long, awkward shrug, looking sheepishly up at Trixie. It's baffling and endearing, and Trixie finds herself trying to shift closer, but they're already pressed closely together.

"I like you, Trixie," Katya repeats and folds her hands on her knee like she means business. "No ifs, ands, or buts. You're smart and funny, _so_ beautiful, and you're the kind of person I want to have in my life. The kind of person that's good for me." With a smile she bumps their shoulders together again, softening. "You're more insane than I thought when I met you, but that's definitely a plus." Trixie laughs and enjoys the warm feeling that's spreading out in her, starting in her chest.

“Come here for a sec,” Katya says softly and Trixie brings her mouth to hers without sparing a breath.

Katya twists her body over Trixie’s and brings her arm around her shoulder, crowding Trixie until she has to lean nearly parallel with the ground to accommodate. She does just that. Along with Katya’s lips on hers, the angle makes the blood rush into Trixie’s head. Katya pulls back and smiles, kisses her neck, and takes the backs of her knees to help her ease down. Mulch crackles under her back and she parts to let Katya in.

Above her, Katya kneels and hesitates. Trixie pants slowly.

“Yeah,” Trixie barely says out loud and Katya instantly answers. She runs her hand up Trixie’s T-shirt, lifts it and kisses her stomach. Trixie gasps at the wetness between Katya’s lips against her soft skin. It makes her stomach bounce and Katya hums, excitedly pressing her face further in. The setting sun tints the back of the house pink and Trixie braids her legs with Katya’s, grips her messy hair with one hand and pushes at the waist of her shorts with the other.

“You need it that bad?” Katya whimpers teasingly into Trixie’s hand. “Honey. Slow down, we aren’t going anywhere. That’s our house.” Trixie whines into a groan and Katya gives her a teasing pout. Ten minutes ago she held an icy cold hose and now Katya is breathing into her palm.

Katya untwines Trixie’s legs from hers. She closes them, holds Trixie’s calves with both hands. Trixie looks around one side of them while Katya looks around the other, back and forth until Trixie snaps and throws her hands down with a huff. Her knuckles lay against the earth by her shoulders and she fingers a leafy tomato vine. Katya grips Trixie’s calves more firmly in her fingers. Trixie looks at her and pouts, earns only an admonishing tut from Katya. Katya eyes the crotch of Trixie’s shorts with a tight closed-mouth smile that makes the lines around her sparkling eyes look wicked.

“Oh,” Trixie cackles, “good thing you’re trying to be more domestic. Civilized.” As her body shakes with a breathy, almost delirious laugh, she feels cold spots on her back. The ground has dampened her shirt. She’s dirtier than she meant to get out here, and she rests her dizzy head, smiles up at Katya peacefully.

“Listen. I said intentional.” Katya holds her gaze and lowers Trixie’s knees to one side, plants her hands in Trixie’s, in the dirt. Trixie adjusts her shoulders. Katya kisses her, but pulls back when Trixie parts her lips further, inviting her in. “I’m very,” she pauses and drops another kiss, “very intentional. Let’s go inside.”

In one piston-like movement, Katya sits back and hoists Trixie up. She can be the athletic one, Trixie would never want to compete with that. She keeps hold of one of Katya’s hands and starts to walk to the house but her arm jerks when Katya won’t move. Trixie turns back.

“Come on, woman. I’ll let you in _my_ house,” Trixie says and Katya hollers.

“Yeah, alright. To be clear? When we get up there?” Katya points up to Trixie’s bedroom which means she knows where it is because she’s thought about it. Obsessed about it, like Trixie has. There’s a glare on the bedroom window pane and Katya squints against it. Trixie simmers. “Yeah, _you_ know.”

“Know what?”

“Calm it down. _It_ ,” Katya says with a hard T, then she tosses her shoulders with a snotty face punctuated with a foot stomp.

Trixie closes the space between them, grabs Katya’s overall strap and tugs the buckle.

“You were a jerk not even kissing me after dinner.” She knows her breath is fluttering over Katya’s face. “Just fuck me right here,” she rasps.

Katya’s jaw drops. Her mouth tries to choose a vowel.

“I gotta wash my hands,” Katya answers weakly. She waits a beat to compose herself, then winks.

“Yeah,” Trixie says. “And I need a drink of water.”

The hose is at Trixie’s feet. She releases Katya’s clothes, bends down and lifts it. She brings it together with both of Katya’s hands. Water flows over Katya’s open palms, through her fingers, and splats heavily around their toes. Katya takes it from her gently and lifts the nozzle between their faces. It takes a few long seconds to understand because Trixie’s head feels open and still for the first time in weeks. She brings her face right up to it, dips her tongue into the flow, laps it up. She covers her mouth and before she knows it, she’s skittering behind Katya’s feet to the unlocked back door.

—

The air is thick with the stagnation of Trixie's weekend absence and now their mingled sweat. As soon as they nearly fell into the bedroom, Trixie made them both strip off their mud-stained clothes, leaving them in one dirty pile. At some point Trixie’s blanket and pillows landed on the floorboards as well. She doesn’t miss them. The remaining sheet sticks to Trixie’s back and she’s resting her head on Katya’s arm that’s stretched out across the mattress.

It’s gotten dark around them and Trixie reaches over Katya’s still heaving chest to reach the switch of her bedside lamp. Her skin only reluctantly unsticks itself from Katya’s when she gets up and throws open the window. Trixie needs to wiggle the latch a little until it complies, and she can feel Katya’s eyes on her the whole time. Any doubt Trixie had about Katya being attracted to her has been thoroughly dispersed. Several times.

The breeze coming in through the window feels freezing on her sweaty skin for just a moment, and she gulps in air. Just like jumping into a lake on a hot day, her body quickly adjusts to the temperature after the first shock. She stays there, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. When she opens them again, she spots the bench they’d been sitting on earlier, knocked over in the dirt. There’s an obvious patch of flattened basil and parsley where Trixie was laying. They've snapped one tomato stalk clean off. Trixie snorts.

“Come back here,” Katya murmurs, and Trixie looks back at her over her shoulder. She pops one hip and smiles, watches Katya watching her. There’s some extra swing in her hips when she saunters back to the bed, and she’s not sure if she put it there on purpose or if it simply appeared when Katya laid her hands on Trixie’s body. Trixie slots herself against Katya’s side again, and she hums contentedly, closing her eyes.

“You owe me a new tomato plant. And some herbs.” Trixie presses a kiss against Katya’s shoulder.

Katya frowns for a moment, catching up with what Trixie is saying. Her eyes are still closed when she notes, “It wasn’t my ass in the vegetable patch.”

“No, but you put my ass there.”

Now Katya opens her eyes and grins. “I couldn’t put your ass anywhere it doesn’t wanna be.” Trixie rolls her eyes, but doesn’t argue. “We can get you more plants tomorrow.” Katya presses a kiss to Trixie’s hairline. The comfortable silence is interrupted by Trixie’s stomach rumbling. Katya’s relaxed body becomes taut like a stretched rubber band.

“When did you last eat?” she asks with obvious concern.

“Uhh, this morning?” It’s less a question than an attempt to keep Katya from being upset with her.

“That’s no good.” Katya is already getting up, but when Trixie pushes up into a sitting position to follow, Katya gently pushes her back down with one warm hand on her sternum.

Trixie lets her go with slight apprehension, dragging her fingertips down Katya’s arm as she pulls off the bed. She hears Katya make her way down the stairs, and then she can only wait. Trixie wonders if Katya could be wild enough to walk her little naked butt over to her place, out through the garden. It’s not _that_ little, Trixie thinks to herself and giggles into her elbow. Wherever she forages, she hopes Katya’s feet don’t get dirty before she climbs back into her bed. Not to protect her sheets, they already need to be stripped anyway, but because Trixie wants to give them more kisses. Katya has the toes freshly painted dark green.

Ten minutes later Katya returns with crackers, bits from all the cheeses in Trixie’s fridge, and some grapes Trixie had meant to eat before the weekend but forgot about. Very industrious of her. Katya balances everything on a cutting board, a pitcher of water in the other hand, and two water glasses tucked between the crook of her elbow and her waist.

They both gulp down a glass of water before descending on the cheese and crackers. Katya lets Trixie take as much as she wants, and afterwards cleans the board of any leftover crumbs. She turns to Trixie with the last cracker still in her mouth.

“At the garden center they have these—” Katya pauses to dab crumbs from her lips and turns her hands into different mystery object shapes. Then she swallows. “Metal sculpture animals. And, you know, plastic flamingos. I’d love to get you a few flamingos for your garden. They’re extremely lesbionic.”

“Get as many gay birds as you like, but keep them on your side of the fence and I’ll adore them from mine,” Trixie yawns. Katya smiles and her eyes search the ceiling. Because she can, Trixie leans over and gives her jaw three little kisses, then one more. “Fine. I’ll take good care of them, promise.”

“No, it’s just … what if we take that fence down?” A warm buzz fills Trixie’s cheeks. “We can.” She grabs Katya and pulls her down, loses her breath kissing her deeply.

Trixie digs a new toothbrush for Katya out of her bathroom cabinet and grabs her bag from the hallway. She hadn’t even made it upstairs before, and for a moment she’s shaken by the quick turn her day has taken. She refills the pitcher for them. Trixie doesn’t need it; she never wakes during the night, but Katya might. She’s tired and content deep down to her bones. It leaves no room for nerves when she gets back into bed with Katya, on fresh sheets and with her pillows and blanket back in place. They fall asleep quickly and without ever putting any clothes on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! We'd love to hear what you think. You can find us on tumblr at [mattepinkallshades](https://mattepinkallshades.tumblr.com/) and [connyhascontrol](https://connyhascontrol.tumblr.com/).


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